Into the Light
by Jellie789
Summary: One-shot, from season 21 episode 2: 'The Darkest Journey Home'. A few points I wish had been explored in a little more depth. Rolivia friendship


There was blood on her hands.

Her own blood.

She was bleeding.

Amanda was confused as to whether the sight of her own blood staining her palm was more or less distressing than if it was the blood of another. It was wet and sticky, and as it began to clot, she could smell the iron it in it. Metallic mixed with Jack Daniels. If she had eaten breakfast this morning, it would have been enough to make her vomit.

Of all the terrible, and (prior to today) unspeakable acts Charles Patton had committed against her on that devastating evening in a low-priced Atlanta motel, Amanda was at a loss as to why the simple sight of a small amount of her own blood was what her brain had chosen to give her as it's favoured flashback. Usually, it was less about what she had seen and more about what she had felt. The flashbacks had waxed and waned over the years, but when they flared back up, usually after a particularly triggering case, or when she was over tired – or, sometimes, for no discernible reason whatsoever – it was always the fear, the panic, the pain…the helplessness that ate her up and spat her back out, leaving her shaking and sweating and retching. The feelings, the emotions; the terror and the anxiety were what overwhelmed her. Not the sight of a little bit of blood.

Amanda had felt a strange sense of distance since she had left Doctor Alexis Hanover's office. The non-stop melody of car horns that filled the busy streets of Manhattan on her walk back to the squad room echoed through her ears as if she were at the opposite end of a tunnel, or the flip side of a parallel universe. Everything around her looked the same, but it was as if the world had tilted on it's axis a little and everything had a slight air of difference. It was as if her feet weren't quite on solid ground as a result, as if she was walking slightly up hill or over sand instead of concrete. As well as the infernal honks of the car horns sounding tinny, the sunlight was too bright, and the sky too blue. She squinted against the onslaught of her own senses. She wrapped her jacket around herself tighter, as the previously cool summer breeze now seemed to possess the icy bite of a winter's day.

_What had she been thinking?_

Amanda admonished herself. She should never have opened up the Patton can of worms. Even if her harsh response to her past had surprised her, she should have known better. But at the time, put on the spot to dredge up a past trauma to get through her training exercise, for some now seemingly crazy reason, her rape seemed like the safest experience to use. She shied away from letting herself feel how truly fucked up that was. Whilst she had spent the better part of a decade minimising the effects of her assault to herself, today had proven to her she was not nearly as past it as she had thought.

Because to move past something, maybe she needed to engage with it in the first place.

_Does it matter if I'm over it?_

Amanda cringed as she remembered speaking the words to the therapist, realising now that even before she had opened her mouth, the kind-faced woman providing her training knew full well that she wasn't over whatever she was referring to. Even if Amanda herself did not. But still, the Patton chapter of her story had seemed like a preferable one to tell over everything else. Despite the fact she had nearly died of a catastrophic haemorrhage when birthing Jesse, it had felt like a bit of cop out to use it as an example, seeing as how it had all turned out all right in the end. And everything else- her childhood, her dad, her issues with Kim, the gambling…it was all too interlinked, to complicated and messy for a mere training exercise. Where would she start? Where would she _finish?_

No, the 'Patton Incident' had a clear beginning, middle and end, a true and complete tale, something else she had learned from freshman English, like her ability to read between the lines. It had been the easiest option out of her 'Profile of Life Trauma' for a work-related, tick-box task.

Christ, she was fucked up.

Back when Patton had come to New York and raped Reese Taymore, and the truth had come out in all it's ugly glory, Amanda had not been entirely honest. She had sung from the same hymn sheet as Reese, putting voice to any similarities in their tales of woe, anything to back up and confirm the other woman's testimony. Then she had shut her mouth and omitted the rest.

_Admit what you can't deny; deny what you can't admit._

Sometimes, late at night when sleep evaded her and her mind wandered off into the corners of a past she usually avoided, she wondered if Reese had omitted the same bits, too. She wondered if she shared the unspoken depths of her trauma with the other woman. Maybe, maybe not. But it gave her a little solace in the silence, so what was the harm in telling herself that? Sometimes, she recognised she was a victim, and she knew most victims left something out of their stories. The rest of time, she felt like the biggest monster in the world. Her silence had, after all, been the reason Reese Taymore had befallen the same fate as her in the first place.

The elevator pinged when she reached the squad room floor of the 16th Precinct, and when she stepped out, she was shunted to the side by Carisi dashing into the elevator.

"Sorry, Amanda," he smiled his boyish smile at her, but she couldn't respond. She could feel her arm burning where he had knocked into her, her nerve endings electrified and over sensitised. She observed as the former detective's features contorted into something resembling concern. "Are you ok?" he asked gently, but at the same time a small group of people stepped into the elevator, forcing Carisi into the back corner. She met his eye, unable to explain, and after a second the doors slid shut and he was gone.

A moment later, Amanda jolted violently when her cell phone began to vibrate in her pocket. The buzzing made her feel like she was being shaken and she tried to swallow hard against the need to hyperventilate. It was likely Carisi calling her. She took a few strides forward and steadied herself against the entrance to the squad room, her hand leaning on the doorframe. She needed to slip away – the bathroom, the breakroom, the crib – anywhere would suffice for a moment or two while she tried to get her head on straight. The movement from her phone died down in her pocket, and she took her hand away from the frame. She gasped at the smear of blood left behind.

"'Manda," Fin called her name upon noticing her arrival and she quickly put her hand back to cover up the mess. Amanda couldn't say if the flashbacks were worse than normal, if they were morphing into hallucinations, or if she had just finally cracked. Whatever the answer, she was even more unsettled, anxious and outside of herself than she thought possible. "Liv wants you, something about Raegan James…" Fin trailed off, and gave her a look of worry not dissimilar to one Carisi had just bestowed upon her from the elevator, "Hey, you ok?" he asked.

Jesus, did she look _that _bad?

"Amanda?" Olivia's voice interrupted their exchange, and Amanda pulled her eyes from her sergeant to her captain. Olivia breezed out of her office, arms loaded up with case files for the store room, and she tilted her head down to observe Amanda from over her thick-rimmed glasses, "I'm glad you're back, I need you to come with me to…" and she too stopped once she got a good look at Amanda, "Jesus, you look awful," Olivia's tone suddenly jumped from business mode to one of alarm, "What's happened?" she dropped her notes down on the nearest desk and whipped her glasses off, abandoning them atop the manila files before approaching Amanda, who had neither moved nor spoken since being spotted by her superiors.

Fin followed, but remained a step behind Olivia.

"I-I'm ok," Amanda stammered, and her voice sounded alien even to her own ears.

"You're not ok," Olivia countered immediately, and she put her hand out to touch Amanda's elbow, "What's happened?" she repeated, "You're white as a sheet- you look like you're gonna collapse, are you sick?"

Olivia's light touch caused what felt like a jolt of electricity to rush through her arm. This hypersensitivity needed to stop. It was freaking her out more than anything she had experienced before. She couldn't speak. She chanced a glance at her other hand, still resting against the doorframe, still hiding her blood. Slowly, she took it away from the frame and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no blood there after all. She took a deep, slow breath. She was ok. But then...Amanda bit back a sudden wave of nausea. Pain exploded at the base of her skull. Instinctively, she raised her right hand to touch the area. A warm wetness there caused her breath to stall in her lungs. And when she brought her hand back in front of her face, she felt like her heart might stop, too.

Blood.

Amanda burst into tears.

Who out of the three of them was more surprised by this, Amanda could not say. The swell of emotion had come out of nowhere and spewed forth without warning. She had no opportunity to stop herself, the same way Jesse might sit and vomit straight onto her rug instead of having the wherewithal to try to make it to the bathroom first. Amanda felt as similarly helpless and incapable as her small child, as she stood in front of her two superior officers, mortified, unable to get a handle on her emotions.

It felt like an absolute age before someone did something, but it could only have been a matter of seconds before Olivia had stepped forwards, taken her elbow once more and begun to usher Amanda's trembling body forwards in the direction of her office.

Panicked, Amanda resisted. She tried to dig her feet into the floor the same way she might try to stop herself from slipping over a cliff edge. She didn't want to go into Olivia's office. Not like this. Not while she felt so scared and vulnerable, not while she was so ashamed and so caught up in the past. She couldn't stay in the squad room in this state, either, but the memory of what happened the last time she was backed into a corner and taken into the office of her commanding officer…

_We can make all of this go away…_

Somewhere at the back of her panicked mind, Amanda knew she was being ridiculous. And it was insulting to ever dream of comparing Olivia Benson to Charles Patton. Olivia would never hurt her or abuse her power over her. But her rational mind was something over which Amanda only possessed the most tenuous of grasps right now.

Suddenly, Amanda had an understanding of why Jesse insisted on flopping to the ground whenever she attempted to take the little girl some where she did not want to go, and just as Amanda's knees buckled in an instinctive attempt to avoid a perceived danger, Olivia caught her under her arms, and changed direction. She heaved Amanda through the door to the breakroom and clumsily plunked her down onto one of the chairs at the table. Amanda was sure she her landing was a little more forceful than Olivia intended. Though she had been working out and had lost a little weight since Billie had been born, it wasn't easy to take the full weight of another adult with grace.

"I'll make sure no one interrupts you," she heard Fin say to Olivia, before hearing the breakroom door click shut.

Amanda immediately hunched over the table and buried her face within her arms. She heard chair legs scraping against the floor and sensed Olivia sitting beside her.

"Amanda," Olivia spoke softly to her, "Tell me what's happened," she said, for the third time.

Amanda felt Olivia's hand rest against her back in what she was sure was intended as a gesture of comfort. However, Amanda felt her skin burn beneath her clothing at the point of contact, and she physically recoiled from Olivia's touch, and she sobbed harder against the table.

"I'm sorry," Olivia said, and she sounded more worried than ever as she quickly withdrew her hand, "I'm sorry, Amanda," she repeated, "But please," she pleaded, "Talk to me, tell me what's happened. Everything was fine this morning…" Olivia cut herself off, and it was as if all the pieces had fallen into place for her. Olivia Benson, ever the detective. Ever New York's finest. Olivia picked up the sentence she had left to hang at her realisation, "Then you went to the trauma therapy training session."

Amanda fell silent at Olivia's observation. It was useless lying to Olivia. The captain could sniff out a stranger's lies from ten paces, so knowing Amanda as well as she did, there was no chance Olivia would fall for anything short of the complete truth.

"I'm sorry," Amanda said quietly, keeping her head buried in her arms against the table, shame and vulnerability radiating from her. "It's only training- I shouldn't have let it get to me."

A painful few moments followed, Amanda silently willing Olivia to say something. The worst-case scenarios were whirling around her mind while the silence dragged on: what if Olivia thought she was unfit for work, after falling to pieces after a mere training session? What if she _was _unfit to work? The thought crawled up her spine, settling with the ache of a memory still pounding away at the back of her skull. What if she was forced to leave her job? She had two kids to support. She couldn't go back to Georgia - could she? She swallowed. She was getting ahead of herself, catastrophising. She needed to get a grip. Reluctantly, she lifted her head and slowly sat back in her chair. With great reluctance, she brought her watery eyes up to meet Olivia's.

"Are you angry with me?" Amanda asked timidly. Olivia's expression was neutral. Usually, Amanda was good at reading people – she had to be in her line of work – but then Olivia Benson always could be a bit of an enigma.

"Of course I'm not angry with you, Amanda," Olivia responded, and Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Amanda stopped herself before she immediately refused, as was her instinct. The flashbacks were rattling her. Maybe she was going soft in her old age, but she couldn't bear the idea of squashing it all down inside and carrying on as she usually would. Anyway, how could she get through the day when periodically her head felt like it was exploding and she was hallucinating blood on her hands?

Without thinking, Amanda touched her fingers to the back of her head again, and when she checked it once more for blood, there was a visible tremble in her fingertips.

"What's wrong with your head, Amanda?" Olivia asked, and she reached out and gave Amanda's (thankfully blood-free) hand a squeeze to gain her focus, "You keep touching the back of your head."

"I keep seeing blood," Amanda answered, and she kept her eyes trained on her hand, even though her palm was now eclipsed by Olivia's slightly larger hand.

"Blood?" Olivia probed, slight confusion infiltrating her tone.

"My blood," Amanda confirmed, with her free hand she gestured towards her head, "Patton cracked my head open. When he hit me…banged my head against the headboard. I was bleeding…I touched the back of my head, and there was blood on my hand."

"So, you talked about Patton with Dr Hanover today?" Olivia deduced.

Amanda nodded slowly in response.

"I had a flashback in her office," Amanda pulled her hand back out of Olivia's, ashamed, "I felt the bang on my head, and saw the blood on my hand again…now I can't stop seeing it," Amanda's voice was barely a whisper by the end of her sentence. Never had she felt so strongly the will to disappear into the ether to escape the humiliation she was feeling, and the pity that was surely coming her way. "I'm feeling too much," she admitted, "When you touched my back before, I felt like I was on fire."

"That sounds really scary, Amanda, I am so sorry," Olivia moved her hand slightly when she spoke, as if contemplating taking Amanda's hand again but thought better of it. Amanda winced at the compassion in Olivia's voice. She didn't want this – she didn't need this. She was tough, not scared. And she could cope. Or at least she could, until Dr Alexis Hanover had gotten into her head and undone her. Now, she was going crazy with flashbacks and hyperawareness. Though, she was grateful to note that when Olivia had taken her hand just, the touch had felt gentle and soft, and nothing like she had it stuck in a vice; the hypersensitivity was calming down, and maybe that meant the flashbacks would recede, too.

"I should've picked something different," Amanda stated with regret, always ready to blame herself for the hurtful actions of others against her, "It's all my fault."

"What's your fault?" Olivia tilted her head with curiosity as she spoke.

Amanda diverted her eyes from Olivia's. She was too ashamed to talk about this, period, but she was definitely too ashamed talk about this whilst looking her captain square in her caring, brown eyes.

"Talking about Patton, and triggering the flashbacks?" Olivia asked, cautiously, "Or are you telling me you feel it's your fault he raped you?"

Amanda's lip wobbled with emotion, and the tears that had been swelling like a tide just below her surface spilled down her cheeks. Damn Olivia for knowing her so well. This was the whole reason she kept people at arm's length. But she had let her defences down over the last few years, struck up a friendly little bond with Olivia that had, until today, seemed harmless. She should have kept to herself, like she always had done before.

She had never been hurt then…right?

"Both," she whimpered, a pathetic noise that she hated herself for escaped her lips as she tried to hold down a sob. She swiped uselessly at her eyes.

"Amanda," Olivia leaned forward and this time put her hand on the top of Amanda's back, and rubbed gentle strokes between her shoulder blades, "Listen to me very carefully – what Charles Patton did to you was not your fault."

"I know," Amanda threw her arms in the air, frustrated and conflicted, throwing off Olivia's touch once again. Logically, she knew all this. She was an SVU detective, for fuck sake. She knew the script. But emotionally, it just did not apply to her. How could anyone else be to blame for what happened, but her? She had agreed to have sex. She had met him at motel. She had lay down on the bed. She had asked him to slow down. She had asked him to stop.

She had begged him to stop. And she had never begged for anything, before or since.

Amanda raised her hands to her face to hide behind them when she started to cry again, although why she was bothering, she did not know. Sobbing in front of Olivia, admitting to her flashbacks and fears left her with no dignity left to sacrifice.

"What're we going to do about this, Amanda?" Olivia questioned gently.

Amanda tampered down her sobs, attempted to control her breathing.

_We?_

"I…I don't know," Amanda faltered. "I'll pull myself together," she added, resolutely, and she rubbed her cheeks with her hands to dry her tears. "I'm sorry, Liv. I've wasted so much time on this today," It was as if she could feel herself shutting down; her walls were closing in, drawbridge rising against the outside world – against Olivia – as she once again sought to protect herself. She couldn't allow herself to continue to open up to Olivia like this, even if a small part her craved to carry on talking. Fear's grip had too strong a hold of her. Amanda went to stand up, but as she put her hand on the arm of her chair to push herself up, Olivia's hand was suddenly on top, an attempt to halt her.

"Just stay here a minute," Olivia said calmly, sensing Amanda preparing to run from her. Now she had calmed, the acute panic fading into the distance, a secondary panic had begun to set in, one where she was aware she had been seen deeply, exposed and frightened, and she needed to pull it all back and replace it with her mask of strength, fearlessness and confidence: her Detective Amanda Rollins persona. "You haven't answered me," Olivia pointed out, but without accusation or malice, simply making a statement, "I asked what're we going to do about this?"

Amanda sucked her bottom lip and viewed Olivia with a mixture of unease and confusion via her sea-blue eyes. She remained silent.

Olivia sighed sympathetically.

"Amanda, we're friends, right?" Olivia asked her, in a way that sounded almost rhetoric, but Amanda was compelled to answer.

Amanda nodded at Olivia, still too ill at ease to verbally respond. Olivia was her friend, and Amanda felt her cheeks pinkening with embarrassment at the slight buzz she got from hearing those words fall from Olivia's lips. Almost a decade ago, Olivia, her idol of sorts, barely looked her in the eye. It had felt almost as if Olivia was disdainful of her, coming in here and taking the desk that had belonged to her previous partner of eleven years. As if she had the audacity to do such a thing. And now, they were friends. Real friends. Even though religion was a complex entity that Amanda often wrested with, she wouldn't trust anyone else with the responsibility of being godmother to her baby girl in a few weeks' time.

"Ok, good," Olivia smiled warmly at Amanda's confirmation of their status. "And friends are honest with each other, and help each other out, right?" Olivia asked, again, rhetorically, but Amanda felt as if she were expected to give her input on the question.

"Right," she agreed, but guardedly now she could see that Olivia was going to get her to agree to everything she was saying. Amanda prickled with annoyance. She felt she was being manipulated, forced down a path of nodding along with Olivia, until Olivia was bound to present her with a resolution she had to agree too – time off work, seeing a shrink. Otherwise, it would be an admittance of her shortcomings, her stunted emotional state, and a consequential reprimand or loss would come her way: the removal of her badge, her gun – hell, her mind, at this point. Even after all these years, Patton was still taking things from her.

"So…honestly…I'm proud of you," Olivia said simply, and Amanda was stunned. She felt like her head was spinning. She had been gearing up to fight with Olivia – just like old times – and now she was utterly disarmed.

"I-uh- what?" Amanda stuttered, and she watched as Olivia let out a little laugh at her obvious bafflement at the directional change in conversation after sensing Amanda's building irritation.

"I'm proud of you," Olivia repeated, serious again now, and she stared dead into her eyes as she spoke. "As your boss, because you took the trauma therapy training seriously, and as your friend, because you trusted Dr Hanover enough to talk about a really traumatic event. Then, when you were upset, you came back here and told me about it, instead of botting it all up or doing something reckless."

Amanda paled when she thought back to her previous "reckless" responses: the gambling, the illegal undercover work, the sex with inappropriate partners. Although now, since she had given birth to Jesse and Billie, it felt like a life she had lived a million years ago, she would always harbour a deep-seated shame at her actions, and for the people who were hurt because of them. She would never forget the face of Marcelo Guarana's wife as long as she lived.

"I don't mean to patronise you," Olivia said, interpreting Amanda's silence as a coolness towards her words. "I just think when the past comes tapping at your shoulder, it is important to remember how far you've come…because it is so easy to slip back to it…to relive it all," Olivia said, and there was a sadness to her words that suggested a level of understanding that squeezed at Amanda's heart and made her want to offer some comfort and support of her own.

"I'm sorry, Liv – I mean, thanks, I guess. You're right," Amanda winced internally as her words fell short of what she really wanted to convey, and she struggled to accept the praise Olivia was awarding her, "I'm proud of you, too," she said, "Though you never went quite off the deep end like I did," Amanda raised her eyebrows self-depreciatingly as she spoke, and she treaded carefully, as she didn't want to ruin Olivia's day too, by dredging up her painful past, "I mean, you should be proud of yourself," Amanda blushed, "Captain Benson," she added, with a playful smile.

It was Olivia's turn to flush with embarrassment.

"I still think you should have let us throw you a party," Amanda continued, "If Carisi got one for going to the DA's office-"

"I don't want a party, Amanda," Olivia laughed as she interrupted, "And stop changing the subject," she admonished, "I know this conversation is making you uncomfortable, but it is important," Olivia said seriously. "Remember last year, the Annabeth Pearl trail?"

"How could I forget?" Amanda groaned, and she brought her hands up to her face as that horrible afternoon in the courthouse replayed at speed through her mind.

"I know we weren't talking about Patton when I said this, but I think you've stepped out from under the shadow, Amanda," Olivia's voice was barely a whisper, but Amanda heard her loud and clear. Unexpectedly, tears suddenly brimmed in Amanda's eyes once more. "And, you should recognise that and be proud of yourself, too."

Olivia reached forwards and held her hand inches above one of Amanda's on the table in front of them. Gently, with her index finger, she made contact with Amanda's skin. She traced patterns over the back of the woman's smaller palm.

"How does this feel?" Olivia asked.

"Normal," Amanda's answer was choked with emotion. It was a relief not to feel burning heat or pulses of electricity at the point of connection, to feel like she was a part of the normal world again and not existing in some weird alternate universe where she was raw, where she felt everything too much.

"Good," Olivia replied, "Come here, then," and took hold of Amanda's hand and tugged her forwards. A second later, Olivia's arms were wrapped around her. She reciprocated, and pressed her face into Olivia's shoulder as she hugged her friend tight. She closed her eyes and breathed Olivia in, the familiar, fresh scent providing her with comfort and warmth, cutting away the last threads of anxiety that were tied to the edges of her, that were trying to pull her back down.

"What do you say to us grabbing Fin, going out to lunch and turning the day back around?" Amanda felt her hair ruffle with Olivia's breath when she spoke, still holding her tight, keeping her safe. Amanda knew it wasn't over, that after her reaction this morning there was no hiding from the fact that the time had come where she needed to face her demons head-on. It scared her, and she clutched Olivia a little harder at the realisation. Olivia gave her a squeeze back, as if sensing Amanda's apprehension, and she rubbed a hand gently up her back before pulling back to look her in the eye.

"When I said earlier, what're we going to do about this – I meant it, Amanda, the "we" part. Whatever comes next, whatever you need…I'm here."

"What if I don't know?" Amanda asked, suddenly feeling fear setting in again.

"Then we'll figure it out together," Olivia said confidently, and she brought her hand up to cup the side of Amanda's face. She stroked her thumb over Amanda's cheek. Amanda's eyes fluttered closed with the gentle gesture. Amanda nodded, trying not to become too consumed by the enormity of what lay ahead. Olivia was right, she had – without intending to – trusted Dr Hanover. Maybe she could go back and trust her again. But for now, she was going to trust Olivia. She was going to be proud of herself.

Amanda nodded and smiled, though her eyes were still bright with unshed tears.

"Lunch?" she reminded Olivia of her suggestion.

"Lunch." Olivia confirmed with a smile, and she rubbed her hands over Amanda's shoulders, "Whatever you want, wherever you fancy. Fin's paying."


End file.
